The Gilded Mirror

The Gilded Mirror

by Del Gibson

It’s a beautiful sunny afternoon, until we enter the antique store. An icy cold settles around us as the door seals us in. Outside the front windows, the sky darkens as a black ominous cloud unexpectedly hides the sun away. It unsettles me for some reason. The store smells of old people, mothballs, and musky furniture. It’s a relatively smaller building compared to the other two antique stores we’ve just perused. After about ten minutes of searching, I spot the item I want – a gilded mirror for our bedroom.

“What about this one?” I ask my husband Cody.

“Yeah, but it looks pricey,” he remarks.

I look at the price tag and I’m surprised to see it’s only a hundred and fifty dollars.

It’s a little faded with age, but it still retains the gold trim around the boarder. It has claw feet at the base, and it’s leaning up against a dresser draw, since it’s probably too heavy to mount onto a wall. There are intricate inscriptions of flowers and leaves running up and down the sides. At the very top is a symbol, a cross inside a star, in the centre of a crown.

We approach the elderly man behind the counter, who’s busy punching buttons on an ancient looking calculating machine.

“Hello. Sorry to disturb you, but I want to inquire about the gilded mirror.”

“What about it?” he grumps.

“I’m just wondering if I’ve read the price tag correctly?”

He looks me up and down with a toothy grin, giving me the creeps for some reason.

“Oh, that one. You read it right. I dropped the price because it’s not selling for some reason.”

“Okay. I think it’d be perfect for our bedroom,” I remark.

“Would you take a hundred for it?” Cody asks.

“Hmmm…make it a hundred and twenty-five,” the owner barters.

“How about, since it’s not selling, we’ll take it off your hands for a hundred and fifteen?” Cody smiles.

“Deal,” says the old man. “It’s a real bargain. It’s very old and heavy so you’ll need both of you to carry it, since my trolley is busted, and I have a sore back.”

Cody chimes in. “I’ll swing the car around the back, and we’ll lay it down on the backseat.”

As we’re driving home with Cody at the steering wheel, I can’t stop peering back at the mirror. Something about it pleases me; whether it’s due to the fact it’s an old relic from another era, or because I usually become a bit obsessed whenever I purchase new items for the house.

A week later, I’m in our bedroom upstairs readying myself for our dinner date. It’s 5pm. I’m kneeling on the floor in front of the mirror using the hair straightener, when I hear tapping coming from somewhere inside the room. I lean in close to the mirror, and sure enough it’s coming from there. I look behind it, in case it’s a rodent, however, there’s nothing there to explain the sounds. I scamper down to Cody, and I find him in the kitchen pouring himself a glass of merlot.

“Whoa, what’s up?” he asks as I nearly collide into him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, omitting the truth. “I’m just wondering how much longer you’re going to be. Our reservation is at six o’clock, and I don’t want to be late,” I say distracting him.

When we arrive home a couple of hours later, we discover the house in a shambles. The couches in the living room have shifted from their usual spot, a lazy-boy chair is tipped over, and books from the shelving unit lay discarded upon the floor. The kitchen is in worse shape. The cold-water tap is on full blast, and since there are dishes in the sink, it’s flooded the room. We decide against calling the police, since nothing is missing or broken. With everything back in its rightful place, we dry the floor with towels.

I’m in bed reading, and Cody is finishing off paperwork in his home office. Suddenly, I hear the tapping sound again, but this time it’s much louder, more like a slight knocking. I switch off the bedside lamp, and snuggle in bed, ignoring it. I’m woken by the sound of voices in the room, but I know I must be dreaming, so I drift back to sleep. I toss and turn the rest of the night.

When I wake in the morning, Cody’s in the shower. I have chores to catch up on, so I dress and make my way to the kitchen. I switch on the kettle. While I’m pouring cereal into a bowl, I hear a horrendous crash above me. Thinking that perhaps Cody’s fallen over, I race up the staircase. I’m horrified to discover all of our picture frames in the hallway are shattered to pieces on the floor.

“What the fuck?”

I’m frozen in place. Cody races out of our bedroom.  

“What happened?” he asks.

“I don’t know! I found it this way.”

It takes a while to clean up the mess. After binning the bits of glass and damaged frames, we sit down to have coffee and to contemplate.

“It must have been an earthquake,” Cody’s hypothesising. “But that doesn’t make sense because other items would have fallen over too.”

I just nod; lost in my own thoughts. My coffee is cold. I’m shaking but I don’t know what is unsettling me. I’ve a bad feeling churning away inside my gut.

“Anyway, I’d better get ready for tonight,” he says, kissing my cheek before he walks away.

Evening slowly brings an amber glow into the house.

“Right, I’m off,” Cody says in high spirits.

He grabs the keys off the hook beside the front door. His friend is having a stag party, and because Cody isn’t a big drinker, they’ve appointed him as the designated sober driver for the night.

Midnight approaches. I’m sitting in the living room watching a trashy television show. Exhaustion makes me yawn. It’s stormy outside, and the wind batters the windows. The lights start flickering in the room. It must be the storm. I hear the front door open and close. I’m waiting for Cody to come into the room to tell me about his night, but he doesn’t appear. Curious, I walk over to the window, but the car isn’t in the driveway. Strange! I’m certain I heard him arriving home. I’ve just settled back on the couch, when all of a sudden, a loud thump on the floor above has me instantly on high alert. It must be coming from our bedroom. I uncurl myself from the seat, so I can go upstairs to investigate.

As I ascend the staircase, I hear footsteps rushing behind me. I hurry into our bedroom and lock the door. I’m so scared I’m trembling. Has someone broken into the house? I didn’t see anyone come up the stairs, although I could clearly hear footsteps chasing me. Then three loud knocks pound on the bedroom door. I jump onto the bed freaking out. In my haste to check out the noise, I’ve left my cell phone downstairs, and we don’t have a landline phone, or I’d call Cody. Three loud knocks in the closet have me hiding behind the armchair in the corner of the room. The knocking continues, this time on the closed ensuite door.

Slowly I rise to leave the room. I’ve had enough. When I pass by the mirror, I’m stopped dead in my tracks. There are people gathering inside the mirror. At first, they appear as black shadowy figures. I can’t peel my eyes away from the scene. I’m beyond confused by what I’m seeing, as they morph into people cloaked in black. I touch the glass gently, and it feels like water. I reach my hand through, but instantly pull it back in horror. I’m propelled forward, I can’t stop myself. I walk right into the mirror.

I wake, and I’m outside on the front lawn, as the rain hits my face. I sit up dazed and bewildered. I run inside and lock the door. Backed up against it, dripping water onto the floor, I try to catch my breath. I grab my cell phone from the living room. I’m about to call Cody, but I decide against it – not wanting to ruin his night. I wait in the living room, and eventually I must have fallen asleep, because sometime later Cody is shaking me awake.

“Babe. You’re soaking wet!” he remarks, as he pulls me to my feet. “What happened to you?”

I can’t reply because my teeth are chattering. He turns on the shower. The warm water disperses some of the biting cold.

Later, we’re in bed and I can’t stop ruminating. How did I end up outside? I know I should tell Cody what happened, but he’ll think I’m crazy.

Things settle down for a few days. Nothing weird transpires.

However, four days later, we’re sitting at the table eating dinner, when out of nowhere, all the cupboards in the kitchen fly open of their own volition. Tins of food, glassware, and crockery become airborne, they hover in mid-air, before crashing to the ground. Cody gets up to examine the mess, when he’s violently knocked flat onto his backside by an invisible force. I rush over and help him off the floor.

“What the hell? What’s happening?” he barks.

He looks terrified; his eyes are the size of plates.

“I don’t know!” I cry. “This has been going on ever since we brought that darn mirror. I think we need to get rid of it,” I say with tears welling in my eyes.

I’m overwhelmed about Cody being knocked over. It’s getting out of hand.

“What are you talking about? What things?” he blurts.

“It doesn’t matter, let’s just forget about it for now. I’ll ring the antique place in the morning and talk to the owner. He might have an explanation,” I say as a cold chill passes through me, like someone just walked over my grave.

We decide to hunker down in the living room on the fold out bed because I don’t want to be in our bedroom after everything that’s been going on.

“I think you’re withholding information from me,” Cody states as his face heats in anger.

I’ve never seen Cody act this way before – it’s very disturbing.

“Look, I’m sure there is nothing to worry about,” I say trying to placate him.

The next day and while Cody’s in town, I call the antique store. I’m perplexed when a recording says the number is inactive and to check I’ve dialed correctly. Perhaps there’s a problem with the connection? I decide that when Cody gets back, I’ll pop over to the store.

He returns home, not long after. I drive into town. Although I would have liked Cody to accompany me, he has work to do, and I didn’t want to bother him with this bizarre situation. It’s a twenty-minute drive to the store. However, when I make it there, it’s completely abandoned. There’s a grate covering the door, and when I gaze in through the windows, the place is empty. In fact, it looks like it’s been closed for years. This makes no sense. An unnerving feeling pervades me as I walk back to the car. I can’t shake the unease gripping me. Though the afternoon sun warms my face as I drive, it doesn’t lift my mood. Aggressively I slam on the brakes, because in the rear-view mirror I can see someone is sitting on the backseat. Slowly I turn my head to look, but there’s nobody there. I race home a mortified mess.

As twilight descends, I’m making dinner, when Cody rushes in through the front door, looking disheveled, dishevelled, his skin pallid, and he’s shivering.

“What the heck Cody. What’s the matter?”

“You need to come and see this, it’s amazing!”

He drags me by the hand up the stairs to our bedroom. He approaches the mirror and places his hands on its surface.

“Watch this,” he says.

He walks through the mirror and vanishes. A few minutes later, the front door opens and closes, and I hear Cody’s footsteps running up the staircase. He bursts into the room.

“Did you see it?” Cody asks.

“Yes, I did,” I remark, a bit abruptly.

“You don’t look shocked. You already knew about the mirror, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did, but I didn’t want to concern you. I don’t think we should be messing with this anymore. I went into town this afternoon to see the man at the store, but the place is shutdown, like it’s been that way for years, and we were only there a couple of weeks ago.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You shouldn’t hide things from me. I’ll be downstairs if you need me. Right now, I’m too angry to talk to you,” he says, stomping off.

I go over to the mirror and put my hand against it, but it’s solid.

I run myself a bath and have a nice long soak to calm me.

After I’m done, I go downstairs to talk to Cody, but I can’t find him anywhere. I check outside and the car is gone. I venture back to our bedroom, and the mirror has gone too. Did he take it away? Several hours later he returns. He’s startled when he sees me sitting in semi-darkness in the living room.

“Hell! You gave me a fright,” he says.

He walks into the kitchen, pours a glass of wine, then he sits down at the dinner table.

“Where have you been?” I ask sullenly.

“I got rid of the mirror, it’s dangerous! I’ve been at the library researching them, and what I learned is very frightening. It’s a portal of some kind,” he says taking a long gulp of his drink.

“A what? What’s a portal?”

“Well, in some culture's mirrors are considered to be gateways to other realms and dimensions. Spirits can become trapped inside the mirror, while others have the ability to come and go as they please. Apparently, you’re supposed to cover them so entities can’t use it. I think we messed up babe. I dumped it. I left it under the overpass. If someone wants it, they can help themselves. It’s not our problem anymore.”

“Okay. I agree you did the right thing, but you could have told me. How did you lift it, when it took both of us to move it?”

“Weirdly, it wasn’t heavy at all. It was light to carry actually. Anyway, it’s late, and I’m bushed. Let’s go to bed.”

When we enter our bedroom, the mirror is standing against the wall.

“Omigod! I swear I got rid of it. I don’t get it!” Cody says, plonking down on the bed, heavy with burden.

I’m staring at the mirror because inside it I can see a group of figures in black sitting in a circle. They’re chanting and singing in a language I can’t comprehend. Cody doesn’t seem to see them. As if by some unseen power, I’m pulled towards the mirror. I touch the glass and my hand goes through it.

“Should we try it out just one more time?” I ask without waiting for an answer.

I walk into the mirror, right into the middle of the circle of people. They’re wearing black cloaks, and they have their faces covered by a thin veil – I can’t see their features. I look back and I see Cody watching, but he doesn’t come through the mirror. They all converge on me, and I scream in terror as I’m thrown to the ground, knocking my head on a rock.  

I come to, on a cold concrete floor. The air is stagnant and smells putrid. I’m in a tiny room lit by several red candles. The cloaked figures stand around watching me intently. Their faces are wrinkled with old age – they look ancient. Sulphur burns my nostrils and stings my eyes. There’s a gilded mirror on the wall across from me. I see Cody, and he looks frantic. He’s knocking on the mirror screaming my name over and over. I yell at him to help, but he doesn’t seem to hear me.

Eventually, the spirits of the mirror leave me, and they walk away. I hear the door lock behind them. Cody is holding his hand up to the glass. I go over and touch it.

“Helen, I can see you, please come back, I need you!” He sobs.

“I can’t. I’m stuck in here and I don’t know what to do,” I cry.

Cody says hello, and that he loves me, every morning before he sets off for the day. He comes to me at night, crying, and looking lost and forlorn. We can touch the glass, but I can’t feel his skin against mine, and it makes me sad. I watch as the years pass by. Overtime, he ages. He visits me less and less. One day he stops coming all together. Until he puts the mirror on the backseat. When he drops it off at an antique shop, I cry and shriek for him not to do it. But it’s too late, he walks away.

I never see Cody again, as the years sweep by. The mirror sits in the store for several years. I wish I could go back in time, undo it all. I want my old life back. I watch people come up and inquire about the mirror, but nobody buys it. The store closes down when the owner eventually dies. Everything is sold off, except for the gilded mirror. It sits in a storage unit for decades, with me trapped inside. Until one day, by chance, it breaks, and I’m released into the spirit realm.

THE END